Poetry from a dead end girl

I feel the sickness of the stitches
Pulling at my belly
Where they took it out of me
Where I used to be
Now there’s only bits of cyber fragment
Circuits computing my cellular level
Will I love or leave
Raise my hand or drink from the glass
Marked poison
Someone wrote a code for me
In lines of binary
To keep me from fucking up
From fucking those
I don’t know
I will keep my laser eyes
Trained on simple happy faces
Say grace with the good girls
When I kneel beside my white sheets
In my white room
I will know there is nothing
I will calculate the tiles
Count the quarter beats
Instead of hearing the melodies
There’s just a scar
To remind me what a feeling was
I fall in love with fraying wires
Sparks just so I know I’m alive
A good little guinea pig
A perfect experiment of bad girl
Gone cybernetic
I’m pretty just because
That’s the way I was programmed

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About deadendemily

Emily lives in Austin, TX. She has a minor in chaos and a major in spray paint. She likes Vincent Price and ABBA. She enjoys being covered in fake blood and writing horror stories. Most of the time she just hopes that her cat is not plotting to murder her, her cat being a minion of Satan and all. They would never suspect the cat.